


Just Like a Paperback Novel (If I Could Read Your Mind Love)

by SomeoneElsesDream



Category: Hockey RPF, Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Emotional Transference, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Strange Bedfellows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeoneElsesDream/pseuds/SomeoneElsesDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Polyamorous brain marriage.” Jordie decides he’s just going to roll with this until he’s given a reason to stop. “Awesome. Well that’s going to be a bitch when the season starts and we have to play these guys.”</p><p>“Or it’ll be awesome,” Tyler grins and Jamie repeats his words to Jordie. “Dude what if I can like brain absorb Sid’s mad playmaking skills? Or his backhand? I kind of want his backhand a lot.”</p><p>“What do you want from Giroux?” Jordie asks his brother.</p><p>“Two points every chance I get.” Jamie decides. “I’m better on the ice than he is anyway.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Do Not Adjust Your Television

**Author's Note:**

> This is not quite the story I set out to write, but I think it came together the way I wanted. With everything that happened in the off season regarding a certain Blackhawk, I basically threw half this fic out the window and made up the rest. And then I moved and lost my detailed notes so it's been an adventure.
> 
> Here are the important things you need to know about my mangled, I WRITE WHAT I WANT THOR, timeline:
> 
> * Danny Briere elected to retire after he was bought out by the Flyers, he lives in Philly and coaches Carson’s hockey team. He no longer runs a halfway house for wayward Flyers, unfortunately that’s Claude’s job now. Claude hates his job. Danny is unsurprisingly unsympathetic. Claude, unsurprisingly, still quasi lives with Danny to get away from his adopted rookies.
> 
> * Jamie still had hip surgery, Nicklas did not…for reasons that’ll make sense in chapter 4 ;)
> 
> * I know little to nothing about the personal lives of the players in question and even less about their families. So I made a whole bunch of shit up. Where I could find names I used them, but otherwise I grabbed my butt and flew by the seat of my pants. I apologize if you’re a purist and this bothers you.
> 
> * I am incapable of understanding time difference between various places in North America, Europe, and Russia let alone keeping them straight in my head.
> 
> Apologies to everyone who recently mainlined the series Sense8, the prologue might seem a bit slow for you as it sets up my sensates. After that shit gets real so hold on to your knickers people.
> 
> Apologies to everyone who hasn’t watched Sense8 (WTF are you doing with your life GET ON THAT) because I’m not sure how much sense the first half of this fic will make without at least a pretty good understanding of that universe
> 
> Fic mix provided by the ever patient DistortedDaytime and can be found on 8tracks [HERE](http://8tracks.com/distorteddaytime/just-like-a-paperback-novel-if-i-could-read-your-mind-love). Be sure to let her know how much you like it.

Prologue: Do Not Adjust Your Television

Sid is in Prague when he sees her in the street, tall and ghostly pale in a white nightgown. It takes him several long seconds to figure out what’s wrong with that, he’s seen a lot of strange shit in Europe thanks, and it’s not until he realizes she’s in the middle of the street and cars aren’t stopping, aren’t _reacting_ , that he stops.

“Sidney.”

He hears her voice in his head clear as a bell, but he’s looking right at her now and he’d swear her lips never move. The hair on the back of his neck rises.

“I’m sorry Sidney, it’s time.”

Nate bumps Sid’s shoulder and the moment is broken, the woman is gone and suddenly everything seems louder and sharper somehow.

“Come on Croz, I wanna see St. Vitus today.”

His skin feels several sizes too small all of a sudden, but Sid lets Nate drag him along, his eyes drawn back again and again to the now empty patch of asphalt.

~~~~~

Jamie is at home in Victoria, taking his daily after dinner shuffle around the neighbourhood to stretch his legs and ease the tightness in his hips, when he steps off the woodchip path and finds himself tripping over broken concrete in the dark chill of an abandoned church. He knows he should be alarmed, should be afraid, but there’s a woman sprawled out on a filthy mattress and all Jamie can think is _no, don’t please_ like his entire being is straining against what’s about to happen.

“It’s okay Jamie, it’ll be alright.”

He knows that it’s her voice as surely as he knows she’s lying to him.

“Please.” He calls out, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.

For an instant there’s a man crouched behind the woman, holding her tightly, his face devastated, but then she lifts a gun in shaking hands and blows the back of her skull out.

Jamie is screaming when suddenly he’s back on the path, back in the late evening sun, and thank god there’s no one around because he’s puking into a bush with the phantom taste of gunpowder still in his mouth.

~~~~~

Eddie is home in Sweden, tucked into his old bed at his mother’s house trying to adjust to the time change and he’s sure he’s not dreaming when he sees her standing next to his bed.

She’s filthy and beautiful, albeit in a tragic kind of way, and he’s not sure how but he knows she is terrified.

“Eddie, _älskling_ , it’s time to wake up.”

“I am awake.” He says, sitting up in bed.

“It’s time to wake up.” She says again and suddenly there’s pain exploding into his head like nothing he’s ever felt before in his life.

~~~~~

There are expectations to being the younger son, the Prodigal Son, of a hockey family; the perpetual desire to play for his country warring with his love of the Capitals. The NHL gave him a home, gave him a _family_ , and Nicklas has never found the words in any language to accurately explain that without breaking his Mama’s heart.

He’s sitting at his parent’s kitchen table when the homey sounds of his mama making breakfast fade out to a quiet whisper and Nicklas realizes he’s not sitting alone.

She’s like something out of an art house movie, and he can feel the sadness, the _fear_ coming off her in waves.

“It’s time Nicklas.”

“Time for what?” He asks, startled.

“It won’t be easy,” she continues like she hasn’t heard him speak, “but you’ll never be alone again.”

“Time for what?” He asks again, louder, but the woman is gone.

“What was that dear?” His mother asks, concerned.

“Nothing,” he says, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Nicklas wonders for a moment if the long season made him a little touched in the head and, if it did, what Alex would say about talking to phantom women.

~~~~~

Tyler is walking back from the bar, following the river Seine back to the hotel, when he gets the feeling he’s being watched. It’s been nice in Paris, being almost invisible in the crowd, with only a few random tourists recognizing him.

He keeps walking, looking around for the eyes he swears he can feel boring into him, and then he sees her. It’s not that odd to see a woman out in what looks more like a nightgown than a dress, but he’s got his collar turned up against the wind and her skirt isn’t moving at all.

Later, Tyler won’t be able to say what makes him stop, what makes him so sure she’s the one, that it’s him she’s here for, but he feels it down to his bones.

There’s a flickering behind her, shadow shapes that seem to be one man, but then another, and then her mouth opens wide like she’s screaming, the deafening sound of a gunshot that has Tyler throwing himself down, and when he looks up she’s gone.

The rest of the way back to the hotel, rushing as fast as he safely can, Tyler can taste gunmetal and cordite on the back of his tongue.

~~~~~

He misses Sid, is the thing. He misses Penguins hockey, misses being with a team where everything makes sense. World’s was a semi-disaster, not ready for the season to be over, not ready to hang up his skates, but no one can say he didn’t give his country everything he had left and then some.

Ten points in nine games is nothing to sneer at, pundits be damned.

Alex mutters something – Swedish? – under his breath at the TV and honestly, Geno isn’t sure why Alex hasn’t just gone home if all he’s going to do is sit on Geno’s couch and drink Geno’s beer and mutter Swedish obscenities at the TV.

Alex claims to be hanging around to keep Geno from devolving into a ‘sad muppet’, but Geno wonders if it’s not the other way around entirely.

He shoulder’s Alex over, putting plates of sandwiches and vegetables on the coffee table before stealing the remote.

“Your taste’s terrible.” He chirps lightly. “No wonder you swear so much.”

“Fuck you.” Alex says in English, because he loves how the word fuck sounds. “At least I’m not learning French to seduce my Captain.”

“No, you’re the Captain learning Swedish to seduce his centre.”

Alex has nothing to say to that without lying outright and in terribly obvious fashion, so he just grabs a sandwich and stuffs too much of it in his mouth. Geno gestures with his beer as if this proves his point.

It says something about where they were raised that neither of them chokes when there’s suddenly a ghostly looking woman in the middle of Geno’s living room.

“The past cannot help you now.” She says, and her voice seems to tremble with fear. “The past is done, only the future remains.”

“Are you alright?” Alex asks softly, sandwich forgotten in his hand.

“You must take the future and make it yours.”

“I don’t think she can hear us.” Geno says

“I am sorry,” The woman continues, proving Geno’s theory. “But all births are painful.”

She’s gone just as suddenly as she appeared, and it’s like someone cranked the brightness up on the world, everything is suddenly too much.

Alex makes a pained noise, high and panicked, and Geno throws out his hand, managing to catch the other man’s arm. The pain is less if they’re touching, they learn quickly, though nothing seems to make it go away.

“I’m never going to be rid of you am I?” Geno asks rhetorically.

Alex makes a complicated face. “Not soon I don’t think.”

“I hate you.”

~~~~~

Though he would deny it to his dying day, Claude usually sleeps better at the house in Haddonfield than he ever manages in his Cherry Hill condo. Tonight though, tonight the sheets are scratchy and there’s a draft coming from somewhere making him feel damp and cold even in the late May heat.

He throws off the blankets, thinking maybe he’ll check the windows and throw on some sweats, but when Claude swings his legs over the side of the bed he steps onto cold, damp concrete instead of the ridiculously plush carpet Danny had laid in all the bedrooms.

“The fuck?” He says, and his breath mists faintly.

Fuck it’s cold. It’s also filthy, but Claude’s trying very hard not to think too hard about that.

There’s a woman in white kneeling on a filthy mattress in the middle of the room. She’s, well he’d say she’s talking to herself, but between one breath and the next he can’t say for certain she’s alone.

Her eyes go wide and for a moment Claude thinks she’s looking right at him, right _through_ him, and then she gives a bitter, twisted smile and puts a gun in her mouth.

Claude sits bolt upright in bed with the sound of a gunshot echoing in his ears, and it’s warm in the room but he’s freezing down to his bones, shaking, it’s all he can do to stumble to the en-suite bath and turn the shower on full blast. He’s pruned and the water is starting to go tepid before he feels warmed through again.

It’s already the kind of late that almost counts as early so he decides fuck it, and goes downstairs to put on a pot of coffee.

No fucking way he’s going to get any sleep now.


	2. Chapter One: One Wave Short of a Shipwreck

Chapter One: One Wave Short of a Shipwreck

Eddie doesn’t realize he’s been curled in bed making terrified whimpering noises until his mama comes in to check on him.

“Eddie, _älskling_ what is it?”

He can’t even speak, between the pain tearing through his skull and the lingering taste of gunpowder and fear in his mouth he’s practically paralyzed.

Mia crawls across the bed to pull her son into her arms the way she did when he was small and the world was too much for him. As far as she knows he hasn’t had nightmares in years, but with his long frame shaking in her arms she realizes she can’t be sure.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there holding him, but slowly his trembling stops and his breathing steadies.

“It hurts mama.” Eddie whimpers, trying to curl further into himself, further into her arms.

“What hurts?”

“Everything hurts.” He’s talking softly, like anything louder than a whisper might break him. “My head.”

“What happened _älskling_? Did you have a nightmare?”

“I don’t know what happened.” Eddie admits. “But I swear there was a woman standing right there telling me to wake up.”

“So you had a nightmare?”

“I was already awake mama. I hadn’t fallen asleep yet.”

 

She gets that shivery feeling he always associated with graveyards and old legends, but she never doubts that her son believes, utterly, what he’s saying.

“Then what happened?”

“Then she was gone and all of a sudden it felt like my head was going to split open.”

Mia considers this for a long moment before sighing. “Come downstairs, I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

“Best mama.” Eddie gives a watery smile.

“Best son.”

~~~~~

The really terrible thing is how good Sid’s gotten at living through feeling like his brain is trying to break free of his skull. Sunglasses, noise cancelling headphones, a playlist of really gentle classical music, soft clothes, and as much hydration as he thinks his stomach can handle.

It says a lot for how well the Pens medical team know him because they sent him off with six gabapentin and strict instructions to take if needed and by god tell someone.

Sid takes the pills because he’s not actually a masochist, but he’s not planning on talking about this with anyone. Ever. He’s not even sure what happened, one minute he’s hallucinating strange women standing in the middle of the street, and the next Nate is dragging him off to some church and Sid’s got a headache that would fell an elephant.

And, for reasons he expressly refuses to consider, he can’t stop thinking about Geno. It’s not like his usual ‘thinking about Geno’ episodes either, it’s like he’s obsessed with the idea that he’s too far away from him and too close not to do something about it.

Everyone and their dog knows Sid goes home to Coal Harbour every summer, and he will, for his kids camp if for nothing else, but he’s never really taken the opportunity to play tourist when he’s visiting different countries to play hockey. And with everything that’s happened in the last couple of years he’s done wasting what time he’s got. So he’s doing all the things he usually eschews during the season and then he’s going home.

The flight from Prague to Moscow is only about two and a half hours, and Magnitogorsk is only about two hours flight from there. He could go for the weekend and it wouldn’t even have to be a thing. It’s not like he’s never made a big gesture with Geno before, this wouldn’t even be the biggest, but Russia in the summer has always been Geno’s _thing_ and Sid’s not sure he’s ready to rock that particular boat.

He books a ticket to London instead. Seguin had mentioned wanting someone to tour around with and Sid’s never been. It’ll be fun. Maybe.

~~~~~

It takes about twenty minutes for Geno and Alex to discover the excruciating headache is bearable as long as they’re touching, another hour to work out that being in eye sight is enough, and three minutes to figure out that neither of them is going to get much privacy for a while.

 

It’s really hard to stand up and piss when you’ve got vertigo and it feels like your brain might leak out your ears at any moment.

“Sasha, open the fucking door.”

“Wait.”

“No wait. I’ve seen your dick it’s not so great.”

Alex gives up trying to stand, piss, and talk, tucking himself back into his shorts and wrenching the door open.

“This is shit.”

“Yes.” Geno agrees, already feeling better. “If I’m stuck with you forever Sid will have a fit.”

“Crosby is your first concern?” Alex sputters, giving up the pretense of propriety and taking a leak. “How will we ever have sex?”

Geno honestly hadn’t thought about it, but now that he has he can’t get the image of one of them hiding in a closet so the other can get laid out of his head.

“We won’t.” He says firmly. “Not until we fix this.”

“Zhenya, we don’t even know what this _is_.”

“This is shit.” He says, because Alex wasn’t wrong about that part.

“I already miss sex.” Alex bemoans sadly. “This is worse than shit.”

It’s not even June and Geno already misses Pittsburgh like a phantom limb. This shit never would have happened in Pittsburgh.

~~~~~

It’s a testament to their years of friendship and their bizarrely codependent living arrangements, that Danny doesn’t even blink when he comes downstairs at 6:30 in the morning to find Claude deep into his second pot of coffee, poking at the remains of what looks like an omelet.

“Rough night?” Danny asks softly, pouring the last of the coffee into a cup.

“You could say that.” Claude’s voice is a jagged rasp.

“Are you sick?” Danny puts down his coffee to press the back of his hand to Claude’s forehead. “You feel a bit clammy actually.”

“M’not sick.” He gives up on eating, pushing the plate away. “You would not believe the night I had if I told you.”

Danny can hear the Do Not Ask Me in Claude’s voice and lets it go. For now.

“Do you want to veg out with me? We can order something later, be real summer bums.”

Claude’s answering smile is more akin to a grimace, but he manages to nod. “Sounds good to me.”

It’s strange, but sprawled out on the sofa with his feet tucked under Danny’s thigh, Claude actually starts to feel a little bit better.

~~~~~

Nicklas couldn’t say what prompts him to go, but as soon as breakfast is done, he’s ducking out of his parent’s well meaning concern to go to his Mormor Nova’s house.

It’s like when he was a boy and the world seemed too big for him, too overwhelming in it’s unknowable enormity, he would go to her and she would press his face into her apron and murmur nothings until he calmed down.

He has no idea what is happening to him, there’s a migraine brewing like a vicious storm around the edges of his mind, and apparently he’s hallucinating strange women in his mother’s kitchen.

Nicklas isn’t sure an apron and some nonsense comfort words will be enough, but there’s this strange urgency pushing him to go and he’s far too tired to fight it.

~~~~~

Tyler is hugging the toilet, debating the merits of trying to drink some Gatorade, when Sid’s text comes through.

_Hope your invitation stands. I’ll be in London this afternoon. Let me know what hotel to meet you at. ~SID ___

__The nausea eases almost instantly, as though the idea of having someone else around eases not just his mind but also his body. Tyler taps out a quick reply, the hotel name and his room number along with the most enthusiastic emoji he can find, and throws himself into the shower._ _

__His room only boasts the one king size bed, but Tyler is confident Sid will be able to get a room, if not in the same hotel, somewhere close by. If all else fails the bed is big enough to share and God knows Tyler has very little in the way of circumspection when it comes to personal space._ _

__As he stands under the delightfully punishing hot water, his thoughts seem to drift outward, as they often do, to Jamie; wondering where his captain is and hoping he’s having a better day than Tyler is._ _

__~~~~~_ _

__Jamie’s day could politely be called a fucking disaster. It had been almost impossible for him to keep anything down after he got home. His sleep had been restless, haunted by what he’d seen in the park. Church. Park. He might actually be losing his mind._ _

__When Jordie came by for his daily check in around noon, Jamie had just managed to get himself semi-dressed and as far out of bed as the couch in the living room._ _

__“Drug reaction?” Jordie asked, knowing from experience that his brother didn’t always respond well to narcotics._ _

__“I wish.” Jamie groaned. “I’m fine.”_ _

__“Bullshit.”_ _

__“I _will_ be fine.”_ _

__“You know you’re freaking me out, right?”_ _

__“Jord, I’d tell you if I knew what to say.”_ _

__“Yeah, that’s not comforting.”_ _

__Jamie sighs, the verbal stalemate is exhausting but he can’t very well tell his brother the truth. Jordie has always said family comes first, and they got matching tattoos to prove it, but Jamie can’t hope his brother will understand any of this._ _

__Not when Jamie doesn’t understand it himself._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> älskling is Swedish for darling  
> Mormor is Swedish for maternal grandmother
> 
> All translations provided by the lovely people of tumblr


	3. Chapter Two: Call On Me, Brother

Chapter Two: Call On Me , Brother

Mormor Nova is utterly unsurprised to see her Nicklas, pale and a little wild-eyed, on her doorstep. She felt a shift in the world, knew a new cluster had been born, and she knows in her heart her _lilla gubben _is caught up in a new world.__

__“Come in, I have tea.”_ _

__Nicklas goes because he can’t not, he’s been going on instinct, on autopilot, and it’s driven him to the safest place he knows, so he’ll continue trusting it._ _

__“Mormor.” He murmurs, kissing her cheeks._ _

__“Lilla gubben.” She sighs, pressing her hands to his face. “Come in. All things can be made better with tea and cookies, no?”_ _

__“Maybe not all things, but tea would be nice.”_ _

__They sit together in comfortable silence while the tea steeps; Nicklas balances a delicate china plate of cookies on his knee._ _

__“Did mama tell you I was coming?”_ _

__“No one needed to tell me, Nicklas, I knew.” She puts a faint stress on _knew_ that she knows her grandson will pick up on._ _

__“How did you know?”_ _

__“I knew you were coming the same way you know my hip is aching.” She pats her hip with a rue smile. “It’s a knowing that defies explanation.”_ _

__“Did you see her too?” He asks, more than a little afraid of the answer. It’s one thing for him to be going a bit mad; it’s another thing if it really happened._ _

__“No, my birth was a very long time ago.”_ _

__“I’m sorry, could you explain please?”_ _

__“You are not only yourself now, Nicklas.” She says, firmly but not unkindly. “You are part of a collective, a cluster of minds brought together in a piece of accidental magnificence.”_ _

__“No, I don’t think I understand.”_ _

__“My little Nicklas,” She laughs. “Always so curious, always wanting answers. Some people are born with something special inside of them, and of those people some of them are born again, activated if you like. They, along with whomever they were born together with, form a cluster.”_ _

__“If I’m not in your cluster, how do I know your hip hurts?”_ _

__“All sensates, those of us with extra sensory attachments, can feel each other as long as we are in proximity. It’s only an echo compared to how connected you will be with your cluster.”_ _

__“You keep saying that, but I’m not _connected_ to anyone.” He frowns thoughtfully. “I think that is something I would notice, no?”_ _

__“When the migraine fades, that’s when you’ll know.” She assures him with a gentle pat._ _

__“Know what?”_ _

__“Know the mind, and the heart, of the seven people you’ll share the rest of your life with.”_ _

__Nicklas takes a sip of too-hot tea and wishes quite fervently that he’d never asked at all._ _

__~~~~~_ _

__Sid gets into Gatwick Airport in the middle of the afternoon feeling like he’s been awake for days, trapped in the liminal fog of international travel and foreign hotel rooms. London isn’t home, the only quality it shares with Pittsburgh at all is the grey washed sense of old, crumbling industry; but at least everyone speaks English._ _

__Sid’s still fighting the migraine that drove him here, and having to smile and pantomime and fight to decipher a foreign language was making everything that much worse._ _

__He hops the train into London proper, then fights himself over whether it’s worth the aggravation to take the Tube or if it’s worth the expense to hail a cab. By the time he gets off the Gatwick Express his nerves are shot and the idea of another train seems like insanity so he hails one of the ubiquitous black cabs and rattles off the address Tyler sent him._ _

__It’s nearly dinner time before he’s knocking at Tyler’s door, his suitcase dragging behind him like a tired old dog._ _

__“I cannot express how happy I am to see you.” Tyler says when he answers Sid’s knock. He looks about as fragile and sick as Sid feels. “Come in.”_ _

__Tyler pulls Sid inside and barely shuts the door before pulling the older man into a surprise hug._ _

__It’s like someone flipped a switch, the world gets a little dimmer for a moment, a little quieter, more like it should be instead of the loud, oversaturated nightmare they’ve both been trapped in for more than a day._ _

__“I think I’m losing my mind.” Tyler murmurs into Sid’s shoulder. “You should not feel this good right now.”_ _

__Sid murmurs his agreement into Tyler’s chest. For the first time since that street corner in Prague, he’s not in any pain._ _

__They stay together like that, locked in a hug-cling-hug cycle, until Sid’s stomach growls loudly and Tyler’s echoes it in sympathy._ _

__“Food.” Tyler nods, stepping back from Sid. “There’s a pub down the block that does amazing comfort food. And the beer’s pretty good too.”_ _

__“Sold.” Sid nods, tucking his suitcase out of the way. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week.”_ _

__“Brother, I feel you.” Tyler nods sagely. “Let’s food this shit up.”_ _

__Sid laughs, loud and honking, all the way to the elevator._ _

__~~~~~_ _

__Jordie bullies the whole story out of Jamie by the time they sit down to dinner. It comes out in pieces; Jamie so uncertain of what to say and Jordie so uncertain what to believe. Regardless, it’s plain _something_ happened to his brother, and Jordie has seen enough shit in his life to know there’s always something going on that defies explanation._ _

__“But you feel better now?” Jordie asks softly when it’s apparent Jamie has run out of words._ _

__“I’m starting to.” Jamie nods. “Headache is fading and this is the first thing I haven’t puked up since I got home.”_ _

__“Well good. You should drink some more Gatorade if you can, it should help.”_ _

__“I will.”_ _

__It’s not until later, when he’s brushing his teeth before bed that Jamie realizes the shit is significantly deeper than he first thought. He’s patting his face dry when suddenly he’s not seeing his bathroom reflected in the mirror behind him. It’s not just a trick of the light, it’s not a figment of his imagination; he’s looking at a completely different room._ _

__And he’s looking straight into the eyes of Claude Giroux._ _

__“Shit fuck.” He yells, throwing the towel in surprise. “I am losing my fucking mind.”_ _

__Giroux is saying something in French, obscenities by the sounds of it, and it’s not that Jamie is seeing his mouth move; he can actually hear the fucking words like they’re actually standing in the same room._ _

__He reaches out to touch the smooth surface of the mirror like he expects it to open at any moment, but the glass remains undisturbed._ _

__“This is definitely what going mad feels like.” Jamie whispers, watching Claude’s face go through a series of complicated expressions._ _

__“Give me your number.” Claude demands suddenly, switching to English. “If this is a dream I could never call you for real.”_ _

__Jamie rattles off his digits and whimpers when his phone rings a moment later._ _

__“This is so fucked.” He says, picking up the call._ _

__“This is beyond fucked.” Claude replies. “ _Merde_.”_ _

__When Jamie looks back up, his mirror shows only his pale, panicked face._ _

__“I’m going to bed now,” He tells Claude. “When I wake up this had better have been a dream.”_ _

__Jamie hangs up without waiting for a reply, turns off his phone, and climbs into bed._ _

__In the morning this will all make sense. In the morning his phone will tell him this call never happened, could not have happened._ _

__Jamie turns off the bedside lamp and rolls over. He doesn’t dream._ _

__~~~~~_ _

__Claude is just putting his phone down when Danny appears in the doorway._ _

__“You good?” He asks, concerned in that warmly paternal way he has. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”_ _

__“Anything is possible.” Claude says, trying to shrug off the lingering feeling of Jamie in his head. The strangest part of all this is how it doesn’t feel strange at all._ _

__“You’ve been acting weird all day, are you worried about trades? Is it the team?” _Is it me?_ goes unspoken, but is clearly heard._ _

__“The team is fine. I think I just need to sleep.”_ _

__“Oh, of course.” Danny turns to leave and Claude reaches out, snagging the back of his old Sabres shirt._ _

__“You’re a good friend Danny, the best.” He says, because he can’t say _I love you_ , can’t say _I’m glad you stayed. I’m sorry they didn’t try to keep you. I’m sorry I couldn’t fight for you.__ _

__There are far more things Claude _can’t_ say than things he can, and lately it’s been getting harder and harder to remember why that is. The fear of fucking up team dynamics no longer applies, and they don’t actually live together anymore for all that Claude feels more comfortable in Danny’s guest room than in his own home. Claude’s not so young anymore, he knows what he wants and he’s wanted Danny long enough to be sure about it._ _

__The only thing Claude isn’t sure of, has never been sure of, is how Danny feels._ _

__There have been enough signs over the years, small things that might be nothing on their own but add up to a picture too fuzzy to be certain of, but enough for Claude to wonder if his best friend isn’t at least opportunistically bisexual. Wandering eyes in dimly lit bars that don’t always land on womanly curves. Hookups that left the shadow of bruises and were never spoken of._ _

__Claude isn’t a coward, but he didn’t get to be the closeted homosexual 27 year old Captain of a struggling NHL team without learning there are some battles it’s smart to avoid starting._ _

__Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to, hasn’t wanted since he was a shy rookie living with Danny and the boys. He’s spent more than five years convincing himself he can’t have this thing, that if there was ever a window when he could have, it’s long since closed._ _

__Danny smiles his tired, hangdog smile, and pulls Claude into a warm hug._ _

__“Sleep well. Tomorrow will be better.”_ _

__Claude takes one deep breath, enjoying the warm spice scent of Danny’s neck, and shuffles himself to bed._ _

__If this is hell then it’s of his own making, and that’s the worst part of all._ _

__~~~~~_ _

__There’s something about drinking hot chocolate at one in the morning at his mother’s kitchen table that feels tastes like childhood._ _

__Eddie manages to steal a few hours of sleep before dawn, but it’s barely enough to qualify as more than a glorified nap. He’s usually better about managing the transition from hockey time to mama time, but last night threw him for a loop._ _

__The headache is still there, quietly aching at the base of his skull, but he feels a little less like he’s going to break into pieces if the wind blows hard enough._ _

__“How is my running partner this morning?”_ _

__“You should not be this awake.”_ _

__“I had many sleepless years when you were young; I can have a few sleepless nights now.”_ _

__Eddie smiles, because he can’t help it, with his mama looking at him so fondly after the night they both had._ _

__“Where is papa?”_ _

__

__“Being lazy.” She smiles. “Run with me?”_ _

__“Breakfast after?”_ _

__“Of course. I’ll make all your favourites.”_ _

__Even through his legs feel leaden and he’s had nowhere near enough sleep, Eddie levers himself up from his bed and throws on his running clothes. If nothing else this should tire him out enough to get a good mid-morning nap in._ _

__~~~~~_ _

__For as much as it’s familiar, waking up as the little spoon with Alex snoring into the back of his head is not how Geno had hoped his summer would go. It’s been a long time since they’ve done this, curled together in one bed, touching from head to toe, but it’s strangely comforting this morning._ _

__They agreed, when Alex went to the NHL, when Geno stayed in Russia, that it was better to leave whatever they were as a thing of the past. Sure, they hooked up at World’s a few times, in Russia, in Germany, and for what ended up being the last time, in Finland in 2012; but it was always more about familiarity than any real desire to be _together_._ _

__They fit, always did, and in a world where hockey came first last and always, having someone who understood that was worth more than having someone to show off on your arm._ _

__It would be nice to be the big spoon for a change though._ _

__It takes some maneuvering to get free of Alex’s octopus armed grasp, and Geno is pleased to find he no longer has a headache, even when they are no longer touching. Deciding to press his luck, Geno leaves Alex sleeping while he uses the bathroom._ _

__Mercifully the headache doesn’t come back, and frankly Geno is feeling better than he has in days, so he decides to be magnanimous and make breakfast for his lazy roommate._ _

__Alex wakes to the twin siren scents of coffee and bacon, and he’s so out of it that it’s not until he’s sitting at the table serving himself a plate that he realizes the symbolism of the gesture._ _

__“Thank God, I was starting to wonder if I’d be stuck with you for life.”_ _

__Geno makes a very complicated face; mostly indignation with some reluctant affection thrown in._ _

__“Attached to you,” Alex amends. “We are Russian after all.”_ _

__“Maybe one day you find nice Swedish boy, have pretty blond babies.” Geno snarks._ _

__“”Maybe one day _you_ find nice Canadian boy, have ugly hockey babies.” Alex returns smartly._ _

__“Fuck you, my babies will be beautiful.”_ _

__“My babies will be more beautiful.”_ _

__“As long as they look like Nicky.”_ _

__Alex blinks, lost for a moment in the mental picture of what his theoretical babies would look like if they could be Nicky’s too._ _

__“My babies will be better at hockey than yours.” He says finally, as the silence grows weighted and strange._ _

__The incredibly judgmental eyebrow Geno gives him speaks volumes._ _

__“Maybe we make sure they play on the same team.” Alex suggests a bit sheepishly._ _

__“Probably best,” Geno nods._ _

__Alex considers his oldest friend over the rim of his coffee mug._ _

__“You ever think of telling Sid?” He doesn’t need to elaborate – there’s only one real secret Geno’s ever kept from his Captain._ _

__“You ever think of telling Nicky?” Geno counters._ _

__Alex just shakes his head at the pair of them. “Too much risk.”_ _

__“Excuses getting tired through.” Geno sighs, abruptly looking his age and then some._ _

__“You’ve been thinking about it?” Alex is surprised. “ What if it goes bad?”_ _

__“Tired of lies. I’m tired of hiding. How much worse can it get?”_ _

__“Bad enough in NHL if it gets out, but here? What if you can never come home, Zhenya?”_ _

__“Sasha,” Geno sighs, tired and heartsick all at once. “Home is Sid, is hockey. Family can visit.”_ _

__“Will that be enough?” Alex presses, not unkindly._ _

__“No.” He admits softly. “But not enough _now_.”_ _

__“I know, Zhenya, I know.”_ _

__They sit together in silence, poking at a breakfast that has largely gone cold, but it’s not uncomfortable. They have too many years of shared history, shared _affection_ for anything like this to rock them._ _

__“I’m glad it’s you.” Alex says suddenly._ _

__“What me?”_ _

__“This.” He waves his hands. “Crazy lady and headache from hell and no privacy. I’m glad it was you.”_ _

__Geno blinks, looking down into his nearly empty cup to make sure no one spiked his coffee when he wasn’t looking. They he snags Alex’s cup to check for the same._ _

__“You drunk?”_ _

__“Zhenya,” Alex gasps theatrically. “You wound me.”_ _

__Geno laughs exactly as Alex intended._ _

__“I’m glad too.” Geno says finally._ _

__“Yes you are, you miss me, you love me.”_ _

__“Not that glad.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lilla gubben is little man (or little old man) in Swedish


	4. Chapter Three: Like A Hurt Lost and Blinded Fool (Oh Now I've Said Too Much)

Chapter Three: Like A Hurt Lost and Blinded Fool (Oh Now I’ve Said Too Much)

Sid wakes up with Tyler sprawled over his back like a human heating pad, albeit a boney one. It’s been a long time since Sid has shared a bed with anyone, and he should be scrambling to get out from under 200 pounds of not-Geno, but instead of being uncomfortable he’s actually finding it pretty nice.

It’s not that he’s lonely, that’s a hard thing to accomplish when nearly every waking moment of his life he’s surrounded by people, but it’s possible Pascal was right about Sid being a bit touch starved. He’s just usually much pickier about who does the touching.

“So is this weird?” Tyler asks the back of Sid’s neck, as if reading his mind. “Because I don’t really want to move.”

“Urm…”

“I will move.” Tyler assures him. “But like, I’d rather not? Unless you want me to?”

“No.” Sid admits reluctantly. “It’s not weird.”

“Awesome. Gimme like ten more minutes to not be awake and we can get breakfast.”

“I’d like breakfast.” Sid smiles into his pillow, confident Tyler can’t see.

“Dude you have not lived until you’ve tried to eat an entire English Breakfast. It’s like, a thing here.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Ten minutes.”

~~~~~

Facing down a plate heaped with food, Sid reconsiders agreeing to try a ‘Full English’. He’s not even entirely sure what half the things on his plate are, and some of the ones he does recognize he’d never consider breakfast food.

“It won’t bite you.” Tyler laughs, watching Sid poke the black pudding on his plate with a deeply suspicious look. “It’s actually pretty good.”

“Why is the toast cold?”

“Because English people secretly hate themselves.” Tyler shrugs. “Just smear something on it and it’s pretty livable.”

“It’s cold fucking toast.” Sid whisper-hisses. “I never should have trusted you.”

“Yeah I get that a lot.” 

It’s obvious Tyler was trying to be funny, but there’s something in his tone, or maybe the slight curl to his posture, that makes it fall flat.

“I’m really bad at this,” Sid admits after a moment of awkward silence. “And I’m not your Captain anymore, but if you want to talk about it, about anything, I’ll listen.”

Tyler gives Sid a long, unreadable look. “You know Croz, I think you might.”

The silence isn’t awkward anymore, as the two of them fight to eat everything on their plates, but it is weighted.

“I don’t want to be the first guy in the NHL to come out of the closet.” Tyler says, apropos of nothing.

“I don’t blame you.” Sid says, barely avoiding choking on his coffee. “That’s a gauntlet no one wants to run.”

“I’m bisexual.”

“Okay.”

“I might be more than a little bit in love with Jamie Benn.” Tyler says all in one breath, barely able to believe that Sid is taking this so well.

“Have you told anyone else?”

“Brownie knows, but like, he’s my bro and he practically figured it out before I did.” Tyler shrugs. “Apparently I’m ‘adorably oblivious’.”

“Have you considered telling Jamie how you feel?” Sid asks softly. “Because anyone with eyes can see how he looks at you and I’m willing to bet he’d be on board.”

“But what if he’s not?” Tyler says, playing with the sauce on his plate to avoid eye contact. “I’ve already lost one team, one family, I don’t think I can do it again.”

“The Bruins were stupid.” Sid says flatly. “No one believed half the shit they were slinging about you and the half they did believe wasn’t all on you.”

Tyler blinks stupidly at Sid for a minute. “Thank you?”

“Whatever. The point is that you need to tell Jamie how you feel. He’s on the same page; he just doesn’t believe you’re reading the same book.”

The metaphor sounds like something Sid is repeating, something someone has said to him a time or two, but it’s comforting regardless.

“How can you be sure?” Tyler asks.

Sid coughs something that might be _olympicbros_ and might be _oilinthepros_ , although the first is much more likely.

The waitress comes to refill their coffees and Tyler takes a minute to study Sid over the rim of his cup.

“So what about you and Malkin?”

Sid spits too-hot coffee clear across the table. They are going to have to tip so much after this.

“What?”

“Come on man, everyone has been wondering about the two of you since like ’07? But like ’09 for sure.”

“There’s nothing…we’re not…it’s not…he’s not…”

“So he’s not,” Tyler notes shrewdly, but not unkindly. “But you are?”

Sid flushes from the neckline of his shirt up to his hairline. “I’m gay, yes.”

He sounds like it’s killing him to admit it, or at least like it’s killing him to admit it to Tyler, but he doesn’t choke on the words and he doesn’t prevaricate either.

“And you love Geno.”

“Can we not? Please?”

“There’s a whole thing about pots and kettles I could bring up here,” Tyler snickers. “But seriously, you should talk to him. The two of you have been making stupid faces at each other since I was still in juniors man and that’s just sad.”

“Make you a deal?” Sid says after a long pause where Tyler genuinely wonders if he’s buggered this whole thing up.

“Okay.”

“You talk to Benn, and I’ll talk to Geno.”

“Fine, but you’re paying for breakfast, deal?”

“Deal.”

~~~~~

At first Jamie can’t place the vague feeling of dread that greets him when he wakes up, but when he flips his phone over to check if he’s got any messages, it hits him. He’s coding his phone open and checking his logs before he even sits up, and there’s an unknown number with a 267 area code saying he talked to someone for about five minutes the night before.

“Fuck.” He says, debating pulling the covers over his head and checking again later, as though history will magically have changed just because he wants it to. 

Jamie manages to force himself out of bed, and he’s brushing his teeth when he realizes exactly how fucked up this all is. For a minute it’s like he can’t breathe, like there’s no air in the room and he’s choking on nothing, and then there are hands on his shoulders and a soft voice telling murmuring French at him.

“I am losing my fucking mind.” He says, looking up at Claude’s concerned face. “Maybe I have a brain tumor.”

“What’s my excuse?” Claude wonders aloud. “Because this is not normal for me either.”

“Who are you talking to?” Danny asks, coming into the room, and _oh God_ Jamie realizes where he is – in Daniel Briere’s fucking kitchen – and it’s all too much for him again.

“Give me a minute.” Claude says to Danny, “I’ll explain in a minute.”

Danny nods, frowning as Claude pets the empty air in a concerned fashion. “Please do.”

“Jamie, _mon frère_ , you need to calm down. What happened?”

“This!” Jamie snaps. “This fucking happened. Again!”

“Well I’m sure there’s a reason.” Claude assures him. “Maybe someone pissed off the hockey gods or something.”

Jamie’s inarticulate rage is surprisingly understandable.

“Where are you now?”

“In Daniel Briere’s fucking kitchen?”

“I think not. He can’t see you, can’t hear you. I think you’re still somewhere else.”

“Home?” Jamie thinks about it. “I was in my bathroom again.”

“I think perhaps you’re still there.”

“Like astral projection?” He frowns. There are a lot of hippies on Vancouver Island, and Jamie’s grown up around some very unique people, but this shit is more high fantasy than he’s ready to deal with.

“Why not?” Claude shrugs, and in that moment he seems to Jamie to be very French. It’s impressive actually.

“So what do we do now?” Jamie sags, defeated.

“I think if you can calm down, you’ll find yourself back home soon enough.”

“When the actual fuck did you become the voice of reason in my life?” Jamie wonders aloud.

“I’ve seen some shit.” Claude admits. “This isn’t even that weird.”

“This is the weirdest thing I have seen in my life.” Danny says, and Claude and Jamie both jump in surprise. “Who are you talking to?”

“Jamie Benn.” Claude gestures to the empty chair Jamie has just sunk into.

Danny blinks for a moment, his face going through several expressions in quick succession. “Hello Jamie.”

“Tell him I say hi.” Jamie nudges Claude with his knee, “and also sorry for barging in on his morning.”

“He says hello,” Claude says dutifully. “And also he is sorry for the interruption.”

“Of course he is.” Danny rubs the deep lines between his eyes. “You said you would explain, _chèr_?”

Claude tells Danny about the late night bathroom visit, about the impossible phone call, and then he just shrugs helplessly.

“I think I maybe brain married Jamie Benn?” He concludes.

“Could be worse.” Danny says after a long moment. “Well I’d offer you some breakfast, Jamie, but I don’t think that’s how this works.”

Claude turns to share a smile with Jamie and finds the chair suddenly empty.

“He’s gone home,” He drops his head to the table, no longer needing to pretend he’s not as scared of all of this as Jamie. “ _Merde_.”

Danny reaches out and lets his hand rest on Claude’s head, warm and steady. “Well let me make _you_ some breakfast, it sounds like you had a rough night.”

“Rough couple of nights, actually.” Claude admits. “Coffee?”

“Of course coffee.” Danny laughs.

For a fleeting moment Claude thinks all their mornings could be like this; sitting lazy at the kitchen table while coffee percolates on the counter and the world seems very far away, but he knows better than to wish for things he can’t have.

~~~~~

Tyler is pacing restlessly while Sid showers, twitchy like his skin is too big and too small all at once.

“You’re making me crazy.” Sid shouts from the bathroom, audible even over the water.

“You’re making _me_ crazy.” Tyler shouts back childishly, flopping back on the bed. 

It’s as if there are cracks in the dam now, cracks in the wall he built up to hold back all the things he feels that he can’t express, and he’s terrified about what will happen when it all pours out. When he was a kid and everything that wasn’t hockey seemed so overwhelming for him, his mom used to sit him in front of the stereo with his little headphones and play music just loud enough to drown everything else out. It’s been his go-to coping method ever since, so he gets up and digs through his bag until he finds his iPod and headphones.

There’s no playlist for this feeling, no song that comes to mind, so he just hits shuffle and skips through the songs until he finds one that clicks.

He’s singing half under his breath, not wanting to disturb Sid any more than he already has, and though the lyrics are melancholy it makes him feel lighter somehow.

_I've got troubled thoughts_  
_And the self esteem to match,_  
_What a catch_  
_What a catch, whoa-oh_

~~~~~

Sid ducks his head under the spray, shampoo bubbles running down his face, warbling off key to the music in his head.

_You'll never catch us so just let me be..._  
_I said I'll be fine till the hospital_  
_Or American embassy_  
_Miss Flack said I still want you back_  
_Yeah_  
_Miss Flack said I still want you back_

~~~~~

Jamie hobbles carefully down the stairs, wary of the way the ache in his pelvis can swiftly turn to pain. He’s been humming since he got back from Claude’s, the song niggling at his head even though he’s not sure he’s ever heard it before.

_I've got troubled thoughts_  
_And the self esteem to match_  
_What a catch_  
_What a catch_  
_And all I can think of_  
_Is the way I'm the one who charmed_  
_The one who gave up on you_  
_Who gave up on you..._

Jordie, the bastard, is standing in the living room laughing at his brother’s horrible attempts at staying on key.

~~~~~

Claude is doing the after breakfast dishes in the sink, not bothering with the dishwasher for just the two of them. 

_They say the captain goes down with the ship_  
_So when the world ends will God go down with it?_  
_Miss Flack said I still want you back_  
_Yeah_  
_Miss Flack said I still want you ba-a-ack_

He doesn’t realize he’s singing until he hears Danny snickering, not very subtly, into his coffee mug.

~~~~~

Eddie’s voice cracks on the high note, making his mama laugh, and even if the words are sad he feels lighter for singing them.

_I've got troubled thoughts_  
_And the self esteem to match_  
_What a catch_  
_What a catch_

As he pulls his mama into a spin and dip he thinks _what a catch_ and smiles.

~~~~~

Nicklas is 35,000 feet above the Baltic Sea on a half-empty flight between Stockholm and Moscow. He hopes he’ll find what he’s looking for when he gets there, but with his grandmother’s words echoing in his head he has to be certain.

_And all I can think of is the way_  
_I'm the one who charmed_  
_The one who gave up on you_  
_Who gave up on you..._

Like most things these days, the song makes him think of Alex.

~~~~~

It’s like a moment of perfect synchronicity, eight voices overlapping in a way that defies distance and logic, a suspension of time making the moment feel like it could last forever. 

_Na na nanana na na nanana_  
_Na na nanana na na_

_What a catch, what a catch, what a catch, what a catch_

~~~~~

Geno is cleaning up the dishes from lunch when he catches Alex humming in the living room. There’s something familiar about the song, but foreign too.

_I will never end up like him_  
_Behind my back I already am_  
_Keep a calendar this way you will always know_

Alex doesn’t realize he’s singing along until Geno trails off and leaves him to catch the chorus.

_I've got troubled thoughts and the self esteem to match_  
_What a catch, what a catch,_  
_And all I can think of is the way_  
_I'm the one who charmed_  
_The one who gave up on you_  
_Who gave up on you..._

It’s strange; neither of them has ever been big on English music.

~~~~~

Tyler lets the last words of the song wash over him, his voice catching on the refrain.

_I've got troubled thoughts and_  
_The self esteem to match_  
_What a catch..._

Sid pokes his head out of the bathroom just as the music trails off so Tyler powers his iPod off and sets it aside.

“My turn for the shower?”

“Sure. Then let’s maybe do that bus tour you were talking about last night?” Sid walks across the room with a towel wrapped neatly around his hips with the utter indifference of a professional athlete.

“The double decker one?” Tyler thinks. “Hop-on, hop-off?”

“Yeah I think that’s the best idea.”

“Cool man, gimme like fifteen to get ready.”

“Deal.”

~~~~~

It’s not until Nicklas is going through customs at Domodedovo International that he realizes he hasn’t even told anyone except his family that he’s going to be in Russia. He doesn’t even know where Alex _is_ right now.

It’s possible this was all a terrible mistake, but he’s come too far to turn back now.

Based on Alex’s Instagram account, he’s staying with Malkin, and based on Malkin’s Twitter account they go to a particular bakery several times a week for coffee and a treat. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, he’s become an Alexander Ovechkin stalker. It’s possible his life is now a farce.

The fates must be in his favor because he’s barely stumbled through ordering a coffee and vatrushka for himself when Alex and Geno come through the door. There’s a long moment where the three of them blink at each other before Alex’s face breaks into a wide grin and he’s charging across the little shop to haul Nicky into a bear hug.

“Nicky!!”

“Sasha,” Nicklas says, mostly into the bulk of Alex’s chest. “So you have missed me, I wondered since you weren’t sending me pictures of your adventures every day.”

“Not many adventures.” Alex sighs, deflating. “Come, we sit and you tell me why you are here.”

‘We’ quite obviously includes Malkin, and Nicklas has no jealousy when it comes to Alex’s harem of hockey friends, but something about his relationship with Evgeni has always struck Nicklas as being more important than all the others. In this moment it bothers him both more and less than it usually does.

“Why you not tell me you were coming?” Alex asks when they’re all sitting with their orders. “Glad to see you, always, but you didn’t say.”

“I didn’t know I was coming,” Nicklas pokes at his pastry. “Things have been,” he hesitates, “difficult lately and I thought seeing you might help.”

“Things difficult here too,” Alex shares a quick but vocal glance with Geno. 

“We are never friends,” Geno says, speaking to Nicklas for the first time. “But I see you here and I think is good.”

“Oh god.” Nicklas debates laying his head down on the faded tabletop. “It’s you.”

“What me?” Geno asks, concerned and vaguely insulted by Nicklas' tone.

Nicklas looks around the little café, moderately busy for this time of day. “I think we should talk about that somewhere else.”

Alex and Geno share another speaking glance.

“Finish coffee, we go to my house.” Geno nods. “Maybe your story same as our story.”

“Maybe.”

~~~~~

When they get to Geno’s apartment, it’s obvious to Nicklas that Alex has been spending a lot of time there this summer. He’s comfortable enough to kick off his shoes and flop down on the sofa without waiting for Geno to even get in the door. He’s not jealous, Nicklas reminds himself, because that would be stupid.

“So?” Alex asks, once they’re all settled in the little living room. “Private now, you tell us your story.”

Nicklas takes a deep breath, knowing that if he’s wrong – and he doesn’t see how he could be – that not only is he about to royally fuck up his relationship with Alex, but he’ll make himself cannon fodder for Geno to chirp for the rest of their careers.

He tells them about his waking dream, about going to see his grandmother and the impossible things she told him were true, and somewhere around ‘cluster’ there’s a dawning comprehension on both Russian’s faces that eases the last of the uncertainty in Nicklas’ chest.

“I knew it had to be you, Sasha, I don’t even know how but I knew.” Nicklas finishes, unable to make eye contact. “I didn’t know about Geno though, but it makes sense now that we’re all here together.”

“Seven, you say?” Geno says, resting his elbows on his knees so he can cradle his chin.

“Well eight of us in total, so I’d say there are five more we don’t know about.”

“How can we know?” Alex wonders aloud. “I see you I think it feels right to have you here, but I don’t feel missing anyone.”

“I feel missing,” Geno admits. “But not sure who missing.”

“I feel the same.” Nicklas nods. “I knew it was Alex, but beyond that I just feel like there’s something missing.”

“ _Someone_ missing.” Geno says, looking more troubled than Alex has ever seen him.

“We find them.” Alex says with more certainty than he feels. “Or they find us.”

~~~~~

Geno is taking a shower, leaving Nicklas and Alex to their weirdness. All joking aside, he knows how Alex feels about Nicky, how he’s felt for years, and if they can find a way to work this out Geno thinks they could be very good for each other.

The third time Nicklas opens his mouth to say something and then abruptly closes it again, Alex has had enough.

“What? You never have problem telling me before, say what you want.”

Nicklas looks up at Alex and back to his knees in a motion so fast it can only be called a flinch.

“You and Malkin.”

Alex frowns. “That not even a sentence. Zhenya longest friend, best friend after you Nicky.”

“Is that all he is?” 

Alex opens his mouth to say yes, because he’s a good Russian boy and yes is the only answer he can give, but there’s something about the way Nicky has made himself small on the couch beside him that makes Alex reconsider.

“Once more, now just best friend.”

Nicklas nods to himself, as though this has confirmed something he long suspected even though he’s only been thinking about it today.

“Why you ask?” Alex says softly. “It matters to you?”

“You matter.” Nicklas says so quietly Alex has to lean in to hear him.

Hockey reporters have been calling Alex stupid for a very long time and he’s never really let it bother him because he knows how smart he is, soon enough he’ll have a degree to prove it, but he feels about as dumb as a sack of pucks right this moment.

“ _Oh Nicky_.”

As far as first kisses go it’s a bit awkward, Alex twisted around on the couch and Nicklas frozen in shock, but after that first tentative press of mouths it deepens into something more natural.

~~~~~

Geno comes out of possibly the longest shower of his life to find Nicklas straddling Alex’s thighs, one of Alex’s big hands up the back of his shirt, and the pair of them kissing like they might die if they stop.

He goes to his room and shuts the door. Some things don’t require an audience.

~~~~~

Tyler is wandering through the Victoria and Albert Museum, having lost Sid several exhibits ago, when he finds himself thinking about Jamie. Again. Always. 

They never seem to have time to do things like this; tourist things, things that aren’t about hockey. It’s not like Tyler is some kind of museum geek, but he likes looking at all the pretty things and reading the little tags about the artist or the subject. It’s fascinating, is all, to look at 5000 years of art from all over the world. It puts life into a kind of strange perspective.

So he’s walking through the stained glass exhibit, utterly fascinated by the precise little pieces of glass that make up these amazing pictures, thinking about Jamie - as one does - when he suddenly finds himself in the hallway of Jamie’s Victoria house.

Jamie and Jordie are in the kitchen, Tyler can just hear them over the thunderous pounding of his heart, and this is a whole different kind of fucked up and Tyler would like to wake up now please.

Tyler follows the voices to the kitchen where Jordie is at the sink washing dishes and Jamie is sitting at the table offering commentary and it’s so much like when they all lived in the same building that Tyler’s heart hurts in his chest. He keeps walking, feeling like some kind of creeper ghost, when suddenly Jamie’s eyes look up and catch his.

“Holy fuck can you see me?” Tyler whisper-hisses, and Jamie’s eyes go wide. “You _can_ see me.”

They both look over at Jordie, who hasn’t so much as twitched since Tyler walked into the room.

“This is so fucking weird.” Tyler decides.

“So fucked up,” Jamie agrees softly.

“What’s that, Chubs?” Jordie asks, turning around and drying his hands on a towel. “You talking to yourself again?”

Jamie flicks a glance from Jordie to Tyler and back again. His brother has been doing a lot of Not Asking the last couple of days, but if this is going to keep happening - and if it’s going to be more than just Claude - Jamie should probably come clean before someone starts thinking he’s gone crazy.

“You’re going to want to sit down, this is going to be a lot.” Jamie looks right at Tyler before nodding to one of the chairs so the younger man knows he’s speaking to them both.

“It’s not like you to be dramatic,” Jordie frowns, but he comes and sits next to his brother. “Just like before, Jamie, you can tell me anything.”

“I know I can.” Jamie nods, “You always believe me, but this is a big ask man, I barely believe it.”

Jordie folds his hands on the table and schools his face into concerned attention. “Just start from the beginning, bud.”

“You remember when I told you about seeing that woman kill herself in that church?”

Jordie nods while Tyler goes wide-eyed.

“After that, after I told you, I was getting ready for bed and Claude Giroux was in my mirror.” Jamie grimaces, knowing how insane this all sounds. “I gave him my number because it wasn’t possible and he called me, really called me, and then this morning I was in Danny Briere’s kitchen talking to him in person. Kind of, I mean I was there but I never left here.”

“Well fuck, Chubs.” Jordie whistles, “You weren’t kidding.”

“Also I should point out that Tyler is sitting across from you right now and you can’t see him.”

“Hi!” Tyler grins, waving at Jordie

“He says hi,” Jamie reports dutifully.

Jordie sighs, dropping his head to the table. He believes Jamie, will side with his brother every time against all comers, but shit this is getting very complicated very fast.

“So you’re what, brain married to Giroux _and_ Tyler?”

“I think I might be brain married to Sid.” Tyler supplies helpfully. “We’ve been weirdly codependent and it’s kind of awesome.”

“Yes,” Jamie says to Jordie, “And Tyler thinks he might be brain married to Sid.”

“Polyamorous brain marriage.” Jordie decides he’s just going to roll with this until he’s given a reason to stop. “Awesome. Well that’s going to be a bitch when the season starts and we have to play these guys.”

“Or it’ll be awesome,” Tyler grins and Jamie repeats his words to Jordie. “Dude what if I can like brain absorb Sid’s mad playmaking skills? Or his backhand? I kind of want his backhand a lot.”

“What do you want from Giroux?” Jordie asks his brother.

“Two points every chance I get.” Jamie decides. “I’m better on the ice than he is anyway.”

~~~~~

One minute Tyler is sitting across the table, laughing at something Jordie said, and the next he’s gone and it’s just the brothers left.

“He’s gone.” Jamie says, visibly deflating.

“Wow Jamie you are totally fucked, aren’t you?” Jordie says, not unsympathetically. 

“I am totally fucked.” Jamie agrees. “He looks really good though.”

“He always does in the summer.”

Jamie looks up at Jordie and finds his brother looking at him with an expression of bemused fondness.

“You’re the best big brother, you know that right?”

“You’re the best little brother.” Jordie says with a smile.

~~~~~

Tyler comes back to himself standing in front of _The Apparition of the Sacred Heart_ , and while he’s never considered himself to be particularly religious, he’s feeling a bit like Christ in this moment; like his heart has been exposed to the world for all to see.

It’s entirely possible he’s empathizing with a piece of art and should consider therapy.

He and Sid meet up at the main lobby in time to head out for an early dinner. Tyler knows Sid has figured something is up, Tyler has always been shifty when he’s keeping secrets, but Sid doesn’t call him on it. He’ll come clean over dinner, Tyler promises himself, after he’s had a couple of pints of beer.

~~~~~

Sid takes the idea of being brain married to Tyler, and possibly by extension Jamie and Claude, rather well all things considering. He does mutter something about carrots and karma, but Tyler doesn’t want to touch that with a ten foot pole so he doesn’t say anything.

It’s not until later, when they’re getting ready for bed (and Tyler isn’t going to ask about why they’re still sharing a room with only one bed okay, he’s not asking because no one wants to see the face Sid will make if he feels he’s imposing upon them, and Tyler doesn’t exactly want him to _leave_ ) that it starts to become clear things are more involved than anyone could have realized.

At first Tyler thinks Sid is maybe talking to himself, which honestly wouldn’t even be that surprising given everything that’s going on lately, but it becomes pretty clear quickly that either Sid has cracked or Tyler is only hearing half of a conversation.

Sid’s phone is plugged in and sitting on the night stand.

~~~~~

 

“What if they hate me?”

Sid hears, clear as a bell, while he’s washing his hands.

“What?” He turns to grab a towel for his hands, thinking Tyler is talking out in the bedroom, when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye.

Eddie fucking Lack is staring back at him through the glass.

“I am going crazy.” Eddie says, nodding to himself. “I am going crazy and my brain thinks Sidney Crosby will make it all better.”

“You’re not going crazy.” Sid offers gently, “Not unless the rest of us are going crazy too.”

“I am going crazy.” Eddie says again, and there’s something so sad in the slump of his shoulders it breaks Sid’s heart just a little.

“Eddie, I know this _sounds_ crazy, but I think something happened to us and now we’re connected somehow. It’s kind of been happening all over the place this summer.”

“Why didn’t Pittsburgh trade for me?” He says with a sad smile, “At least I know people would like me in Pittsburgh.”

“People will like you in Carolina.” Sid says, because he’s at a loss for how to help here and it’s probably true. Eddie Lack is like a giant beanpole of sunshine or something; everyone loves him.

“You are very nice Crosby, that’s probably why my brain picked you.” 

“Call me Sid, and it’s true.”

“I’m just going to accept that this is a thing that is happening,” Eddie decides after a moment’s consideration. “Mama will be very upset if I am crazy.”

Sid considers Eddie’s pale face and dark-circled eyes, noting that instead of bulking up in the off season, it looks as though the young goalie has lost weight since going home.

“Are you okay?” Sid asks finally. “I mean, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” He says, shaking his head. “No one is going to trade Sidney Crosby.”

“They traded Gretzky.” Sid offers weakly, knowing Eddie is probably right. He’s not going to get traded any time soon if at all.

Eddie nods, accepting this piece of wisdom. “I’m not good enough for them to keep me.”

“Eddie…”

“Maybe I’ll never be good enough. Being second to Lu was good, he taught me a lot and helped when things were bad, but what if I’m never good enough to be number one?”

“I’m sure Ward…”

“Cam Ward is going to hate my guts.” Eddie cuts Sid off with a hard shake of his head. “My save percentage is better than his, and I’m younger than he is.”

“That’s true.” Sid agrees cautiously. “That doesn’t mean he’s going to hate you.”

The two men stand in silence for a moment, considering one another through the glass.

“What if the fans hate me?” Eddie asks finally, his voice small. “Vancouver didn’t always love me.”

“Vancouver is a terrible hockey city.” Sid says venomously. “They run perfectly good players out of town and throw a multi-million dollar tantrum when the team loses in the Final.”

“What should I do?” He asks helplessly. “I’ve never been traded before.”

“Neither have I,” Sid says softly. “But I’ve got someone here who has.”

“Who else is there?” Eddie asks, “And where is there?”

“I’m in London with Tyler Seguin.” Sid shrugs. “It’s not as weird as it sounds.”

“Okay.” Eddie agrees in a tone that implies it’s plenty weird but he’s too polite to say so.

“Hey Segs!” Sid calls, not wanting to leave the room in case it breaks whatever connection has formed between himself and Lack. “Get in here!”

~~~~~

Tyler doesn’t know what he’s expecting to see when he steps cautiously into the bathroom, but Eddie Lack looking exhausted and worn in the mirror would not have made the list.

“Hey?” He greets Eddie cautiously before turning to Sid. “I thought you were talking to someone in here, actually I thought you were talking to yourself.”

“Who says I’m not?” Sid shrugs. “It’s not like he’s physically here after all.”

“Of course it’s happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean it isn’t real.” Tyler nods sagely.

“Did you just quote Harry Potter?” Eddie asks.

“Maybe.”

“Anyway,” Sid says firmly. “Eddie is worried about the trade, about what’s going to happen when he gets to Carolina. I couldn’t really help with that, but I thought maybe you could?”

Tyler nods slowly. It’s been two years since the Bruins traded him, and it stopped hurting right about the time he looked up and realized he was in love with Jamie, but he remembers vividly the shock and heartbreak of finding out your team didn’t want you anymore.

“Yeah man, whatever you need.”

~~~~~

Sid slips out, leaving Eddie and Tyler to talk privately for a moment. He never wants to be traded, wants to wear Pittsburgh black and gold for the rest of his career, but he never really thought about what kind of privilege it was to know you would never be trade bait. The weight of a franchise, long since shared across many shoulders, doesn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing against english people and everything against cold toast
> 
> vatrushka is a Russian pastry. Its a soft bun filled with cottage cheese (sometimes cream cheese) and jam. Super tasty
> 
> Mon frère is my brother in French  
> Chèr is like dear in French
> 
> French translations are mine but its been a veeeery long time since I learned it in school.
> 
> Song is 'What a Catch, Donnie' by Fall Out Boy
> 
> **as someone who lives in the greater Vancouver area and is not and never has been a Canucks fan...I feel I am entitled to my opinions of how terrible a hockey city it is. I remember the riots okay


	5. Chapter Four: All That You Need Is In Your Soul

Chapter Four: All That You Need Is In Your Soul

It’s too early to even consider it ‘morning’ when Geno’s phone starts playing _Firework_ by Katy Perry from across the room.

“Sid?” Geno answers groggily, trying to remember if today was one of their phone days. “Early Sid, why call?”

“Shit.” Sid says quietly, “I never get the time difference right.”

“Sid?” Geno says again, because there’s a tone Sid’s using and it’s not one of his usual ones. “Okay?”

There’s a clatter from across the line, and Geno can just hear Sid muttering _shit_ again.

“It’s stupid,” Sid says finally. “Nevermind. Go back to sleep, I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No Sid,” Geno says, sitting up in bed. “Is fine, awake now.”

“Go back to sleep.” Sid pleads. “I’ll call later.”

“What happened?” Geno demands, worried now. “You not call unless bad thing happen.”

“Everything’s just gotten so crazy,” Sid admits. “I’m in London with Seguin and I just wanted to hear your voice. It’s stupid.”

“Not stupid, Sid.” Geno smiles softly. “Miss you too.”

“I don’t want to be in London with Seguin.” Sid admits quietly. “He snores.”

“You share room?” Geno asks, surprised. Sid is notorious for needing his own space on the road, even on a team of guys he’s known for years.

Sid mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like _it's a big bed_ , but Geno is sure he’s hearing things because _that_ doesn’t sound like Sid at all.

“Like I said,” Sid says softly. “It’s been crazy.”

Something about Sid’s tone makes Geno pause and reconsider what he’s going to say next. It’s entirely possible he’s projecting, that he’s jealous of what Sasha and Nicky have found and wants it for himself, but it’s equally possible he’s exactly right.

“Sid, I am ask crazy question.” He warns.

“Okay.” Sid says without hesitation.

“Did you see woman in white? Disappear like ghost?” Geno asks tentatively, not knowing what he’ll say if Sid laughs.

“Holy fuck.” Sid whispers. “How many of us are there?”

“Us?” 

“Urm,” Sid hesitates. “Yeah there’s a bunch of us apparently.”

“Nicky say are eight.” Geno says, nodding. “Me, Sasha, Nicky, you. Who else, Sid?”

“Tyler, Jamie Benn, Eddie Lack,” Sid ticks off the list. “Oh, and Giroux apparently.”

Geno says several very bad words in Russian. “Of course Giroux.”

“We should get everyone on the same page,” Sid says, his Captain Voice coming through. “Email maybe?”

“I send Sasha and Nicky address.” Geno agrees, his voice trailing off into a yawn at the end.

“You really should go back to sleep.” Sid urges softly. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“Okay Sid, I sleep.” Geno agrees. “Talk soon.”

“Bye, G, sleep well.”

~~~~~

 **From:** Sidney Crosby  
**To:** Evgeni Malkin , Tyler Seguin , Eddie Lack , Alexander Ovechkin , Nicklas Backstrom , Jamie Benn , Claude Giroux  
**Subject:** So We’re Brain Married Now

Hello Everyone,  
Tyler titled the email so please don’t blame me for that. So by now you’re all starting to understand what’s happening, or at least we all know about the connection that has sprung up between us. I’m told Nicklas has some insight into the hows and whys, so Nicklas if you could share with us that would be great. I know we’ve had some interesting visitations going on, and I’m hoping we can continue to support each other through this difficult transition. I know that we are all on different teams, but there are things that transcend our seasonal rivalries and I am confident we can get through this together.

Please remember to Reply All so we can keep everyone together on this  
\- Sid

~~~~~

Tyler has to laugh when his phone chimes with an email notification and he opens Sid’s message. If he hadn’t just spent the last two days living in Sid’s pockets, Tyler might think Sid was an uptight pain in the ass. As it stands, he just finds it oddly endearing.

“You are going to get so chirped for this.” He tells Sid with a laugh. 

“Is it bad?” Sid asks, “I thought I covered all the important points. I didn’t want to bog everyone down with details in the beginning.”

“Where did they make you?” Tyler wonders aloud.

“Fuck off.”

~~~~~

 **From:** Claude Giroux  
**To:** Evgeni Malkin , Tyler Seguin , Eddie Lack , Alexander Ovechkin , Nicklas Backstrom , Jamie Benn , Sidney Crosby  
**Subject:** RE: So We’re Brain Married Now

Petition to let anyone but Crysby be the leader of this merry band of misfits. I don’t think I can stand him being in charge of any part of my life. I’d rather lobotomize myself with a power drill.  
~CG 

~~~~~

“You are such an asshole.” Danny laughs, “I don’t think you needed to say that at all, let alone to everyone.”

“You’re the one who always encouraged the boys to speak their minds.” Claude says innocently. “I was just following your example.”

“Asshole.” Danny repeats fondly.

Claude should probably go home, should probably have gone home days ago, but the truth is with everything gone topsy turvy Danny’s house has become the closest thing to a safe haven Claude has in the world.

“You know you can kick me out any time, right?” He offers awkwardly.

“Why would I kick you out?” Danny asks, puzzled. “I thought you liked spending time here?”

“It cannot have escaped your notice that I’ve basically moved back into your guest room.” Claude says, “And the big perk to retirement was supposed to be having a house free of hockey players.”

“My sons are hockey players.” Danny reminds him. “Claude, you’ve never been just another hockey player, not even when you were my rookie.”

“I just don’t want you to get sick of me.”

Danny has to choke down the familiar swell of love Claude has always elicited in him. The reasons for not acting on his feelings might have changed, but there will always be too many things between them for anything to come of it.

“If I ever get sick of you, I will let you know.”

~~~~~

 **From:** Alexander Ovechkin  
**To:** Evgeni Malkin , Tyler Seguin , Eddie Lack , Nicklas Backstrom , Jamie Benn , Sidney Crosby Claude Giroux  
**Subject:** RE: RE: So We’re Brain Married Now

I volunteer to be everyone captain.  
~Ovi8

~~~~~

 **From:** Nicklas Backstrom  
**To:** Evgeni Malkin , Tyler Seguin , Eddie Lack , Alexander Ovechkin , Alexander Ovechkin , Jamie Benn , Sidney Crosby Claude Giroux  
**Subject:** RE: RE: RE: So We’re Brain Married Now

Do not let Alex be our captain. In fact, we don’t need a captain. This is going to be the most equalizing thing any of us have ever experienced and the last thing we need is for this to turn into a Who Has The Bigger Dick contest.  
-Nicklas

~~~~~

“My dick very big.” Alex says when his phone chimes with an email notification.

“That’s not the point.” Nicklas reminds him. “The point is that we don’t need someone to be in charge, we’re all going to be going through this together.”

“Team go through many thing together, still have captain.”

“I regret kissing you.” Nicklas mutters, mostly to himself. “You’re just trying to get a rise out of me and it’s not going to work.”

“I get many rise from you, work every time.” Alex leers cheerfully. “Get rise from you already today.”

“Oh god.” Geno says, coming into the living room. “Not on couch, have bed for that.”

“Speaking of beds,” Nicklas says, ignoring the way Alex lights up. “Are we just going to live here until training camp starts?”

“Was going home to Magnitogorsk to see family before go back to Pittsburgh.” Geno shrugs, “But have time still.”

“Family is here,” Alex says, “Can see anytime.”

“But don’t you have your own place here?” Nicklas asks, “We don’t have to stay with Geno forever.”

“Can stay.” Geno offers, “Not fuck on couch, but can stay.”

“ _Zhenya_ ”, Alex huffs fondly before turning to cuddle into Nicklas. “We move to my house tomorrow. Fuck on couch, fuck everywhere.”

“Somewhere in my life,” Nicklas says to a laughing Geno, “I made a terrible mistake and now I’m paying for it.”

~~~~~

 **From:** Evgeni Malkin  
**To:** Claude Giroux  
**Subject:** RE: RE: RE: RE: So We’re Brain Married Now

you want i lobotomize you is no problem. i help.  
-malkin

~~~~~

“I guess it’s getting time to get home.” Sid says after their third day touring around London. “I’ve got to get everything ready for the hockey camp.”

“As if you haven’t been micromanaging everything from here.” Tyler scoffs. “But I guess we should both be heading back.”

“Going home to see your family before the season starts?”

“Actually,” Tyler says with uncharacteristic shyness. “I was planning to go to Victoria to see Jamie.”

“Good for you.” Sid smiles, “Go for what you want.”

“You should have what you want too, Croz.” 

“What I want right now is to go home, celebrate my birthday with my family, and teach some kids how to play hockey.”

“Is that enough?”

“It’s enough for now.”

~~~~~

“What on earth are you doing?” Jordie demands, shouting to be heard over the vacuum cleaner. “Didn’t the doctor specifically say you should avoid doing anything too strenuous?”

“Tyler is coming.” Jamie says, shutting off the machine. “And I’ve been stuck in this house for weeks, it’s a mess.”

“That’s why they have cleaning services.” Jordie says slowly. “People you can pay to come in and take care of this kind of stuff.

“Also,” he continues, cutting Jamie off neatly. “Tyler practically lived with us in Dallas, he knows exactly what kind of slob you are.”

“Teammate slob and boyfriend slob are different.” Jamie says defensively.

“Boyfriend?” Jordie blinks, “That’s new.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my God, Chubs, have you even talked to him about this?”

Jamie hunches his shoulders and picks at invisible lint on the back of the couch.

“I knew you were in love with him, but I didn’t realize it had already made you stupid.” Jordie says, not unkindly. “Maybe consider using your words, and remember what else the doctor said.”

“I remember what the doctor said.” Jamie scowls.

“No sex, Chubs, not for at least another three weeks.” Jordie reminds him cheerfully.

“I hate you.”

~~~~~

 **From:** Eddie Lack  
**To:** Evgeni Malkin , Tyler Seguin , Nicklas Backstrom , Alexander Ovechkin , Alexander Ovechkin , Jamie Benn , Sidney Crosby Claude Giroux  
**Subject:** RE: RE: RE: RE: So We’re Brain Married Now

Hello Brain Husbands!

I have never been married to anyone and now I have seven brain husbands, this is a very strange time for me. 

Claude you and I should stick together, we are the only ones without someone on our team in this marriage. I will be the best husband I promise. :)

-Eddie Lack

~~~~~

“Eddie, _älskling_ are you packing already?” Mia asks, noting the utter disarray of her son’s room.

“It’s warmer in Carolina,” Eddie shrugs. “I need different things.”

“I know you wanted to stay in Vancouver,” Mia says softly. “But maybe this new team will be good for you.”

“What if I’m not good for them?” He asks softly. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“Oh my love,” She sighs. “You will always be good enough.”

“Hockey is life mama, but it’s not real life. Good enough isn’t always good enough.”

“Maybe you should talk to Roberto again, he was always so good to you.”

Eddie sighs. “I hate to bother him, mama, he’s not my goalie anymore, he’s got his own team to worry about.”

“You will always be his baby goalie and you know it.” She scolds gently. “Send him an email at least.”

“Alright mama, I will.”

~~~~~

Stuck on a transatlantic flight for ten hours, Tyler figures it’s as good a time as any to figure out if he can do the whole incorporeal visitation thing deliberately. As far as he can tell, he’s only gone walkabout when either he’s thinking strongly about someone, or they’re thinking strongly about him, and thinking about Jamie is as easy as breathing.

One minute he’s sitting comfortably in first class, the next he’s standing in the middle of Jamie’s bedroom with the sounds of the shower running in the other room.

“Wizard.” Tyler grins.

Jamie can feel eyes on him before he turns around, and he’s almost hoping it’s Jordie being weird rather than another visitation from Claude. There are things no man wants to share beyond his team, and Canadian-pale skin with new scars is part of that.

Also his dick, but that pretty much goes without saying.

“Looking good, Benny boy.” Tyler says from the doorway, a comical leer on his face.

“Fucking hell, Tyler, warn a guy.” Jamie groans as his dick jumps against his belly. He’s always had to fight the instinctive urge to be happy to see Tyler.

“But if I warned you, I would have missed the show.” Tyler hops onto the counter to get a better view. “I’m stuck on this endless flight and I was bored so I thought I’d come see what you’re up to.”

“This is about as much as I’m up _for_.” Jamie admits, “And even I’ve got to be careful not to move too much.”

“I could help?” Tyler offers. “I mean, I think I could help? I’m not actually sure how this works.”

“I’m not supposed to do anything strenuous.” Jamie cautions him

“So I’ll do all the work.” Tyler decides, pausing as he hops off the counter. “If I get in there, will I get wet or no because I’m not really here?”

“As if I would know.”

“Point.” Tyler shrugs, stripping off with his usual economy. “I’ll get naked then, it’s only fair.”

Jamie has to turn away and press his face into the cool tiles to keep from coming right then and there. He’s seen Tyler naked countless times, but there’s something about the intent that makes it so much harder to control himself.

Tyler slides his hands up the wet planes of Jamie’s back, revelling in the firm muscles and soft skin.

“God, babe,” Tyler breathes softly. “You are perfect.”

Jamie turns when Tyler’s hands get insistant, putting his back to the hot spray and exposing himself completely to Tyler’s gaze.

“God I hope this works.” Tyler says, sinking to his knees.

Jamie grunts something unintelligible as Tyler presses a kiss to the damp head of his cock. With one hand firmly wrapped around Jamie’s hip and the other anchoring the base of his cock, Tyler takes as much as he can into his mouth.

There’s a moment of disorientation and then it’s like the most amazing feedback loop opens between them. Tyler can still feel the tile under his knees, the weight of Jamie’s cock in his mouth, but he can also feel hot water down his back and the phantom pressure of a mouth on his cock.

“Okay that’s weird.” Tyler says, pulling back. “Is it wrong that I can feel that from both ends?”

“Let’s think about that later.” Jamie suggests in a rough voice. “More sucking, less talking.”

“Yes Captain.” Tyler smirks, going back to work on Jamie’s cock.

They both adjust to the feedback loop quickly, and it’s going down as the best blowjob Jamie has ever had because Tyler knows exactly what to do to make it feel perfect, knows when to suck harder, how to use just the ghost of his teeth down the length, and Jamie is coming hot and hard before he knows it.

Back in his own body with a suddenness he hadn’t expected, Tyler is only moderately surprised to find he’s come in his jeans like a teenager.

“Oh that’s going to be fun for the next six hours.” He scowls at his lap.

~~~~~

The weirdest thing about being brain married to seven other people, Claude thinks, is the mood swings. He knows, intellectually that these aren’t his emotions, but it’s hard to juggle the conflicting feelings of joy and fear and sadness and love that all seem to jumble around in his head at once.

Danny calls it ‘emotional transference’ which just proves once and for all that he’s a Star Trek nerd.

It’s not even that these emotions are bleeding through, if he concentrates he can separate what he’s feeling from everyone else, it’s that he can’t control when and where it’s happening.

~~~~~

 **From:** Claude Giroux  
**To:** Evgeni Malkin , Tyler Seguin , Nicklas Backstrom , Alexander Ovechkin , Jamie Benn , Sidney Crosby , Eddie Lack  
**Subject:** Well That’s Awkward

Whichever one of you assholes is getting laid right now needs to figure out how not to share those feelings. I did not need to pop a chub at the mall. There were teenage girls present and I do not need this kind of bullshit.

-Claude

~~~~~

Claude isn’t the only one who popped an inconvenient boner, but at least Nicklas and Alex have each other to take care of things.

Mercifully alone in his apartment again, Geno doesn’t bother getting off the couch, he pulls out his cock and gives a few firm tugs, spilling over his wrist quickly enough to be embarrassing.

He wonders, idilly, if Sid found himself in a similar position. Though he’s had plenty of interesting dreams about Sid over the years, Geno tries very hard not to actively think about his captain’s sex life, but now that they’re interconnected like this it’s like he can’t help himself.

Geno doesn’t claim to understand how any of this works, but he hopes those feelings aren’t being shared with anyone else. That would be one humiliation too many for today.


	6. Chapter Five: Sleeping All These Years

Chapter Five: Sleeping All These Years

Claude’s email rocks the cluster. It’s not that they haven’t been living with each other’s emotions for several weeks now, it’s just that no one had stopped to consider the complete lack of privacy within the cluster.

“We can never have sex again.” Nicklas decides, ignoring Alex’s wandering hands. “There’s no other option really.”

“We live in locker room, why need privacy now?” Alex says, nuzzling into the back of Nicklas’ neck

“The locker room isn’t fucking us by proxy.” Nicklas retorts, trying and failing to squirm away. One thing people suspect but can never seem to prove about Alex is how he turns into a multi-limbed cuddle monster when he’s in a mood.

“Not much difference.” Alex shrugs, leaning more of his weight on Nicklas. “Team see us at best, at worst, mostly love us anyway. Cluster is like new team, second team.”

“You’re not actually making this better you know.” Nicklas sighs. “Or maybe you are, I can’t even tell anymore.”

“Is hard for me,” Alex admits after a long pause. “Russia not kind to men like us, always keep big secret. Now is known, is scary for me too.”

“I don’t care if the whole world knows we’re fucking,” Nicklas says softly. “I’d just rather they weren’t getting off on it.”

“Maybe we not tell world.” Alex says, “Or team. Maybe we keep as secret?”

“Cluster secret?” Nicklas muses. “I guess we all have to keep each other’s secrets now.”

“Like church!” Alex agrees. “Or like doctor.”

“You realize this means you can’t chirp any of them for any of this.” Nicklas says firmly. “It’s not fair otherwise.”

“Nicky why you ruin fun?”

~~~~~

Tyler is not entirely surprised when it’s Jordie picking him up at the airport instead of Jamie. He’s been expecting some kind of Talk ever since Jamie spilled the beans about whatever was happening to them.

To be fair, he’s been expecting a Talk ever since he first laid eyes on Jamie because, if Brownie can be trusted, Tyler has had some serious heart eyes going on these last couple of years.

“Just get in the car, Segs.” Jordie says with his usual gruff affection. “God you look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”

“Don’t front,” Tyler says in his best dudebro voice, “You missed me.”

They’re driving down the highway with the radio a barely there murmur before Jordie speaks.

“You really love Jamie, don’t you?”

Tyler pauses before answering, not because he doesn’t, but because it’s still so new it seems wrong to just act like it’s no big deal.

“You know I do,” He says finally. “Have for a while now.”

“Yeah.” Jordie nods, “And you know he’s not in any kind of condition to, you know.”

“I promise to treat him like a delicate little princess until he kicks my ass.” Tyler swears, laughing. “We have talked about this you know.”

“I’m just saying, you don’t want to be the cause of him having a setback that could cost him going into the season.”

Tyler swallows hard. The biggest fear of any athlete when it comes to preventative surgery is that the cost will be higher than expected. No one wants to miss games, not even in the start of the season when things are less do or die.

“I would never,” Tyler promises softly. “And I won’t let him either.”

~~~~~

The inaugural Sidney Crosby Hockey School camp was a much bigger success than Sid could ever have anticipated. It was amazing to work with Nate and Taylor to help give kids a personalized experience. Originally he hadn’t wanted to commit to a repeat of the camp, but now Sid isn’t sure how he could ever stop.

He’s already planning to ask more players to help; next year he might be able to have more kids.

Sid goes back to Pittsburgh as soon as he can. Only a few of the guys are back already, the ones with families who need time to re-settle before training camp starts. It’s only been a week and Sid has had dinner with Flower, Duper, and Kuni. The kids run to him shouting ‘Uncle Sid’ and it’s like all the trials of April are a world away.

Geno comes back to town just in time for Head Office to announce they’ve signed Gonch to a tryout contract, and his joy lights up the back of Sid’s mind like fireworks.

Sergei being in town does make it more difficult for Sid to find alone time with Geno, though it is hard for Sid to begrudge them their time together, especially with Geno already agreeing to look after the young Sergei the way Gonch had once looked after him.

Sid has considered it, opinions to the contrary, but the idea of having a stranger - even a teammate - living with him sets his teeth on edge. He does wish sometimes that he was an easier man, one who could repay the generosity Mario and his family gave Sid when he first came to Pittsburgh, but he barely wants to live with himself most days let alone someone else.

With everything going on it’s a bit of a surprise for Sid to find Geno on his doorstep the day before the team is due to meet at the new practice arena.

“Come in?” Sid says, suddenly awkward. “I think I’ve still got some of your tea.”

“Okay, Sid.” Geno smiles, stepping inside and pulling Sid into a big hug. “Miss you.”

“I missed you too.” Sid says into Geno’s chest. 

They settle in Sid’s little dining nook with cups of unpronounceable tea, knees knocking together under the little table.

“Good team this year.” Geno says, breaking the heavy silence. “Cup looks good for us.”

“Yeah.” Sid sighs, already bracing for another year of making friends that get traded away. “On paper we look pretty good, but I hate change.”

“Yes, ice is cold also.” Geno laughs. “Not all change bad, Sid.”

“I know, I just miss the guys.”

“Duper come back this year, skate on your wing again.”

“Maybe.” Sid shrugs. “Hard to say what Coach will do with all the new blood.”

“I’ll take Kessel, you can keep Duper.” Geno grins, “I help like that.”

“Oh yeah, very helpful.” Sid laughs, which is what Geno intended.

“You need to worry less,” Geno suggests gently, laying his big hand over Sid’s on the table. “Not the only person carry this team. Many shoulders you can trust.”

“I do trust you, Geno.” Sid says softly. “I just feel like I’m running out of time to win, you know.”

“I know, Sid.” And now it’s Geno’s turn to sigh. “I feel too.”

“We can do it,” Sid says firmly, turning his hand under Geno’s so their fingers twine together. “We _will_ do it.”

“This year our year.”

~~~~~

It hasn’t escaped Danny’s notice that his relationship with Claude has been slowly shifting in these last few weeks. Claude hardly ever goes home anymore, and there’s a warm tension to the meals they share that hasn’t been there in quite some time.

Claude isn’t 22 anymore, and Danny isn’t 33, but some things haven’t changed in five years, Danny’s feelings amongst them.

Danny doesn’t know how to be the one who starts this; for all his experience with women he’s only taken men as one-night stands. It can’t possibly be that different.

Claude figures Danny must be working up to asking him to leave, and decides to preempt the awkwardness of that by collecting his things from around the house and packing his bags.

“So I was thinking…” Danny says, walking into the guest room without knocking as he has a thousand times before. “Wait. Are you leaving?”

“I thought I should before you figured out how to politely evict me.” Claude shrugs, roughly folding a shirt and stuffing it in his bag with the rest. “I’ve imposed enough.”

“This is…” Danny swallows, a strange panic thick in his throat. “This is the opposite of what I was coming to say, actually.”

“Hmm?” 

Words are too small, too imperfect for what he wants to say, so Danny does what he thinks Claude would do if their situations were reversed; he kisses him.

It’s awkward, as first kisses often are, but in the space of a moment Claude understands what’s happening and then they are moving together as effortlessly as they ever did on the ice.

For something that has been brewing for the better part of five years, there’s little finesse to the pair of them. Claude fumbles with Danny’s pants for a moment before he shrugs and strips himself bare instead. Danny gets so caught up watching Claude, he tangles himself in his shirt like a boy with his first pull.

It’s fitting, then, that the first time they touch skin to skin, they’re both laughing. There should be joy in this, Danny thinks, if nothing else they have always made each other smile.

They manage a vaguely coordinated topple onto the sloppily made bed, Claude spreading his legs in reflex to bring Danny into the curve of his hips. Kissing like teenagers, too wet and urgent for any kind of finesse.

“Wait,” Danny pulls back when Claude runs his hands down his back, “I don’t...do you have anything?”

Claude considers for a moment before shaking his head. “No, but we’ve got time for all that later don’t we?”

“So what…” Danny’s question ends on a high gasp when Claude shifts to slot their cocks together and wraps his hand around the pair of them. “Merde.”

As handjobs go it’s amazing; the contrast between the velvet softness of cock and the calloused roughness of Claude’s hand has both of them coming rather sooner than they’d like to admit.

“I never thought I’d have this.” Claude says after, with Danny’s head tucked under his chin. “Wanted it a long time but I never thought you did too.”

“I did,” Danny admits, “But you were so young and I’m divorced with three kids. You deserve better.”

“I never wanted anything but this, you and the boys, and us together exactly like this.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

~~~~~

There’s an unwritten rule of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell within the cluster. No one is particularly good at blocking each other’s emotions yet, though there is a concentrated effort to figure it out before the season starts.

As hockey players there is very little shame about their bodies and the things they get up to with them, but emotions are another thing entirely.

Sid could have gone his entire life without feeling Claude’s complicated, encompassing love for Danny. It’s hard to hold on to a rivalry when you know a person’s heart like that, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try.

~~~~~

Eddie’s first game for the Canes is against Alex, with Nicklas watching from the box and offering them both conflicting commentary. Both can feel Nicklas’ amusement and vague resentment as he suggests increasingly ridiculous suggestions for shots and blocking - sometimes simultaneously.

It’s distracting, but it’s also kind of amazing, to see himself from another angle, to see the ice that way. He manages to stop all 22 shots that come at him, mostly on his own, with only a pair of saves made because Nicklas saw the angle shot Eddie couldn’t.

The Canes still lose, 2-0, but that’s not on him and everyone in the locker room makes sure Eddie knows it. 

He remembers when hockey always felt like this; invigorating, like you could be immortal and unstoppable as long as you were on the ice. It’s been more than a year since Eddie felt like this, since the Canucks traded Lu away and left him tangled in his own strings.

“Well played, Eddie.” Coach Peters says, clapping a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s what we want to see.”

“Thanks, coach.” Eddie grins, and he can feel the faint praise coming through from the cluster as well. “Thanks.”

~~~~~

The general consensus from the Briere boys is ‘took you long enough’. Calean especially had been convinced his dad was in some kind of illicit relationship with Claude from the beginning, and had been almost disappointed to find that was not the case. 

“Is that why you left?” Cameron asks, when Claude and Danny sit the boys down to dinner and explain the situation. “We wanted you to stay.”

“It wasn’t a good idea, then.” Claude says, “But things are different now.”

“Because dad retired?” Carson asks

“No,” Danny shakes his head. “But that did make it easier.”

“Team dynamics.” Calean nods sagely. “Makes sense.”

The boys start bickering amongst themselves about the hows and whys of this newest change, leaving Claude and Danny to shoot speaking glances at each other over their heads.

“So I was thinking,” Claude says, stopping what was sure to turn into a food fight. “That if no one minded I might spend more time here.”

“Dude you haven’t left in weeks.” Calean snorts, “Just move back in already.”

Another speaking glance.

“We don’t want to rush into anything.” Danny temporizes. “So for now Claude will live in his place and just spend time with us here as he can during the season.”

“But not in the guest room.” Cameron clarifies. “Because we’re not kids anymore, you don’t need to lie to us about sex.”

“Oh Jesus.” Danny buries his head in his hands.

“No,” Claude manages, face red. “Not in the guest room.”

~~~~~

The second preseason matchup of Carolina and Washington goes a little less pleasantly for all involved. 

Eddie can’t settle down in the first, he’s so busy watching Alex, feeling for when the mercurial man shifts focus to try and land a shot, that he gets scored on and taken out by Alex in the opening 20 seconds of the game.

There’s a moment, twin flares of pain in the cluster, when they both get a little confused about which of them is which, but Alex gets up, throwing his arms in the air to celebrate his goal and that makes it easier for Eddie to settle into himself again.

A warm feeling, like a blanket or a hug, comes through their connection; Alex knows he took Eddie down hard and genuinely feels bad for it.

“Try that again and I’ll feed you that puck.” Eddie shouts across the ice, not knowing if Alex can hear him.

Amusement and respect bleed through, and Eddie can see Alex tip an imaginary hat in his direction from the visitors bench.

Game on.


	7. Epilogue:

Epilogue: You’re Gonna Carry That Weight

It seems fitting, after everything they’ve gone through in the last few months, that the first real game Sid plays is against Tyler and Jamie. They’ve gotten better at blocking each other out, all of them, but sitting in the visitor’s locker room at the American Airlines Center the feedback loop of _hockey joy anticipation hockey_ is so strong Sid can barely keep from laughing.

Geno is having the same problem across the room, but it's more common for the Russian so the team hardly takes note.

"You ready?" Flower asks, giving Sid a full body bump. "This is our year."

"Fucking eh" Sid says with his best attempt at a straight face.

Flower's cackling laugh leads the team out onto the ice.

~~~~~

Going down 3-0 and not even managing to put a shot on goal leaves a foul taste in Sid’s mouth. The mood in the locker room is somber, a stark contrast to the joy of a few hours earlier.

"It's only one game guys, we've still got a whole season and a long playoff run ahead of us." Sid gives his speech and mostly manages to mean it. "We're going to look back on tonight and it will barely be a memory."

~~~~~

Back at the hotel the team splits up. No one is really up for celebrating, but not everyone wants room service either so most of the guys head out to a local steak house. 

Sid waves off the automatic invitation, everyone knows he's going to stay in to review tape and prep for their next game over the best room service he can find.

No one comments on Geno’s brush off of the invite, or how close he’s sticking to Sid. After so many years, everyone is pretty used to how strange the pair are about each other. Even the new guys barely bat an eye; anyone who follows the NHL knows about the Two-Headed Monster.

After convincing the on-site restaurant to send up several things that are most definitely _not_ on the room service menu as quick as they can, Geno lays an impossibly gentle hand on the small of Sid’s back to lead them upstairs.

"That's not how I wanted our season to start." Sid admits once the door is closed behind them. He can't say it in the locker room, not this early with so many new guys settling in, but he's always been able to speak the truth with Geno.

"One game, Sid." Geno yanks off his tie and throws his jacket over the back of the chair. "New team needs time."

Sid sighs because he knows Geno is right, he _knows_ , and really they've been having variations of this same conversation for almost a decade now.

~~~~~

The food comes hot and fast; one of the perks of being Sidney Crosby is that people tend to jump to give him things. Unless they're Flyers fans.

Geno gives Sid a tragic face when Sid pulls out his tablet to watch Yotes footage.

"One night, Sid." He grumbles softly. "Not for team, for us."

Sid tucks his tablet away without a word, sitting next to Geno at the little table. Their knees knock together under the table and Geno drops one big hand down onto Sid’s knee. It's almost disgustingly domestic, in a very strange way.

After dinner, once Sid puts the trays in the hall to be collected, they're both exhausted from the game. Geno stands in the middle of the room fidgeting with uncertainty. They ended up in Sid’s room out of convenience, and everyone knows Sid sleeps alone.

"Stay?" Sid suggests softly. "Just to sleep?"

~~~~~

The last person Sid shared a bed with was Tyler, and the circumstances were quite different. For one thing, Sid has never wanted to climb Seguin like a human tree.

It's easy in the end, because like so many other things, Geno knows what Sid needs and never makes him ask. Sid likes to sleep on the side closest to the bathroom, and Geno waits until Sid pats the bed in invitation before stripping down to his boxers and settling in.

It's the simplest thing in the world to turn so Geno can spoon up behind him, one long arm thrown across Sid's waist with their legs tangled together.

"Sleep, Sid." Geno says. "Tomorrow is new day."

"Geno?" Sid murmurs, already half asleep. "I love you."

"Love also," Geno says, squeezing Sid in a half hug. "Always love."

Sid pulls Geno's arm up so he can press a kiss to the back of his hand, there's an answering kiss against the soft skin behind his ear. It's taken a lot to get them here; ten years of working together on and off the ice and a mountain of unsaid things, but with the warm glow of Geno's contentment simmering in the back of his head, Sid falls asleep.

 

~FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I owe the legibility, coherence, and comma control of this story to my Lisa who laughed and cheered and sent me funny emoji texts while I was writing this bitch out longhand. Believe me when I tell you I would be utterly lost without her guiding hand and witty repartee. At this point she basically deserves a co-writing credit on anything I manage to churn out. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT BABE
> 
> If this seems more like the opening to a bigger world than a complete story that would be because I lost my notes in the move and had to dramatically amputate the plot. There are many little stories I would like to tell and if the interest is there this will become the start of a series. So let me know if you want more of these bumbling idiots and I will oblige as time and muses permit.


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